


What You Deserve

by billybones



Category: Professional Wrestling, World Wrestling Entertainment
Genre: Intrusive Thoughts, M/M, WrestleMania 33
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-04-01
Updated: 2017-04-01
Packaged: 2018-10-13 12:44:06
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,103
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10514022
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/billybones/pseuds/billybones
Summary: Seth couldn’t blame Roman for avoiding him. But it was weird that now, when Seth was truly penitent, they felt farther away then when Seth had still been smirking and shrugging off references to his past.This is why you should never apologize,murmured the voice in the back of his head.It let’s people know that they should expect better from you.Seth and Roman interact for the first time since Seth's return.





	

**Author's Note:**

> If you are Seth Rollins or Roman Reigns, please don't read this.

They had finished up one of the many, many Axxess events surrounding Wrestlemania weekend, and the New Day had demanded volunteers to help put away the tables and chairs. Cesaro had volunteered himself and Sheamus (mostly, Seth suspected, to annoy Sheamus) and somehow Seth had gotten pulled in as well. Cesaro had said, “We’ll help clean up,” and then he'd gestured in Sheamus’ direction. Unfortunately, Seth had been standing next to Sheamus, and try as he might Seth couldn’t convince the New Day that when Cesaro said “we” these days he only meant himself and his tag team partner (unless Bayley was around). Looking back, as he set the last of the tables against the wall in the storage room, Seth cringed at the obvious mistake of saying: “Who  _else_ could he mean?” which had, of courseinspired a storm of “who”-ing. Seth had folded quickly. He could never really deny the New Day anything anyway.

Seth made his way back to the main hall where the meet and greet had taken place, Cesaro and Sheamus trailing behind him, arguing or flirting or whatever. Seth was doing his best to ignore them.

Most everyone had left already, back to their hotel rooms or the gym or off to see friends who had come into town for Wrestlemania, but there were still a few stragglers. Roman was leaning against the wall, arms crossed, looking patiently amused while Sami talked enthusiastically and hand-wavingly about something. Seth experienced a weird mixture of schadenfreude and jealousy looking at the two of them. Sami was crazy, but- well. Crazy didn’t mean _bad_. They seemed so at ease together...

Seemingly responding to the weight of his gaze, Roman looked up. Seth forced himself to look away and start walking again, following behind Cesaro and Sheamus, who had passed him while he'd been staring like an idiot.

He and Roman hadn’t really talked much since he had been injured again. When he’d come back through the curtain after being interviewed by Graves (the first time he’d forced himself to say “Maybe I deserve this” out loud), Sami had been waiting in Gorilla. Ever since tagging together that one time, Sami seemed to have decided that they were friends, and Seth could admit that he found Sami's particular brand of strangeness oddly charming. Seth had allowed Sami to hug him and drag him a little ways away from the other occupants of the room, and Sami had told him quietly that Roman had been there too. He’d watched the whole interview, but he’d left before Seth got to the back. Seth hadn’t known how to feel about that. And it had kept happening. After every confrontation with Triple H, he would get through the curtain, only to learn that Roman had just left.

Seth couldn’t blame Roman for avoiding him. But it was weird that now, when Seth was truly penitent, they felt farther away then when Seth had still been smirking and shrugging off references to his past.

 _This is why you should never apologize_ , murmured the voice in the back of his head. _It let’s people know that they should expect better from you._

Seth pushed the thought away. A cursory google had told him they called “intrusive thoughts.” Seth called it the Triple H voice, although it didn't sound like Triple H.

He glanced around the room. All that was left to put away were the black folding chairs. Seth walked over to where Cesaro and Sheamus were working. Sheamus was being boisterous about their chances at ‘mania, and Cesaro was laughing at him and Sheamus was grinning back with so much fondest in his eyes that Seth wondered if they would notice if he pretended to retch. _God, couples are insufferable._ Seth contented himself with rolling his eyes and moved to pick up a chair.

If Seth were being honest with himself, and he was now, he was trying very hard to be honest with himself, he would have to admit that it was probably for the best that Roman was distracted with his own Wrestlemania plans. Seth could barely look him in the eye. He didn’t know what he would do if Roman actually tried to speak with him.

As soon as his fingers closed around the cool metal of the chair, something shivered through him. Seth paused.

It felt...dangerous. Seth frowned, probing at that thought, trying to understand himself. It came to him after a moment. _I can't trust you. Me. I don't trust myself._ He couldn't reassure himself with the thought that this chair wasn’t dangerous in his hands. He was the sort of person who couldn’t be trusted with a weapon, even around his friends. The knowledge of it was awful, but no less than he deserved. _No escaping yourself. I’m with this forever. This’ll be in me forever._ The thoughts were jagged and half formed, Seth could feel despair and panic and claustrophobia unspooling in his stomach. _Keep it together._

“What are you doing?”

Seth looked up. Sheamus was inexplicably holding seven folded-up chairs and frowning at him.

“I thought you were going to help. You’re just staring at a chair.”

“Right, yeah sorry,” said Seth. As soon as Sheamus turned away, he couldn’t stop himself from looking at Roman.

Roman was looking back.

 _I bet it scares him,_ whispered the Triple H voice. _Seeing a chair in your hands_.

 _Shut up,_ thought Seth. He was starting to feel really ill. He put the chair down.

“Cesaro, I’m gonna go grab...a thing,” he muttered, not waiting for Cesaro’s response. He walked to the double doors leading out of the hall, looking at the floor, avoiding anyone’s gaze. He pushed out into the hallway and followed the exit signs, resisting the urge to break into a run. _It’ll just feel worse if you let yourself panic. Keep it together._ Finally, finally, finally he threw open the exit.

Outside it was cool and grey, the kind of sleepy rainy day that made you want to sit by a window. The hall was in a quieter part of downtown Orlando. A few cars were driving past. A little girl in a rain jacket was asking her father to get her ice cream at the shop across the street. Everything was a little damp.

The cold air should have felt good on his skin, instead Seth could barely feel it. It was like he’d developed the flu in the last two minutes, he felt achy and miserable. A few months ago he hadn’t known that feelings could get like this, so strong and awful that it was almost like physical pain.

 _This is why my way is better,_ said the Triple H voice, sounding smug. _You never felt this badly before_.

“Shut up!” Seth snapped, out loud this time.

“I didn’t say anything,” said Roman.

Seth spun around. There was Roman, standing in the open doorway, watching him with those focused, non-judgemental eyes. Seth opened his mouth and shut it again. It was the first time Roman had spoken to him since he’d come back from his second knee injury. The surprise washed through him, pushing away the intense awfulness of before, leaving him with a more bearable level of anxiety and guilt. And longing.

“Are you okay?” asked Roman.

 _Pathetic_ , snarled the Triple H voice.

 _Soft hearted_ , thought Seth. _Better than me. Better than I deserve._

“It’s fine, Roman. I’m fine.”

Roman frowned, but didn’t say anything. Seth had known he wouldn’t. _Roman never pushes. Makes it so easy to keep stuff from him._ That thought brought him up short. _Why am I lying to him?_

_Because you know you don’t deserve his sympathy._

_But maybe it would make him feel better to know..._

“I- um,” Seth struggled with the words. He had finally gotten to the point where he could face his feelings and thoughts honestly, but putting them into words brought back all the avoidant impulses from before. _Dangerous_. Seth forced himself to continue. “The chairs. Holding the chair. It just. Old stuff comes back. I mean. You know.”

Something complicated was happening on Roman’s face. Seth looked away, across the street again. The little girl had apparently convinced her father to get her ice cream, because they were gone. Now the only pedestrian was a woman walking a puppy. Every couple feet she stopped and told the dog to sit and it would stare at her uncomprehendingly, but adoringly.

“How’s your knee?” asked Roman.

“It’s fi-” Seth cut himself off. _Stop lying._ “It’s not back to where it was. But it’s good enough.”

“But the doctors wouldn’t clear you to compete.” It wasn’t a question.

“They don’t understand.” The concern layered under Roman’s questions was making Seth’s heart beat faster. “I can’t fail now. My knee will hold up, as long as-” Seth’s hands curled into fists. “As long as I can get there _mentally_ , it’ll hold up.” _I can’t fail now. I can’t._

Roman put a hand on his shoulder. Seth nearly jumped out of his skin, whirring to look at him. He hadn’t heard him get so close. Roman squeezed his shoulder, leaning down a little to look him in the eyes. _God, he’s pretty._ Seth’s stomach squirmed guiltily and he looked away again. The woman and her dog were gone. The wind was picking up a little, blowing cool rain against his skin, still light enough to be enjoyable. The hand on his shoulder radiated warmth. Seth wanted to curl up in it.

“Hey,” said Roman, tilting his head to catch Seth’s eyes again. “Look, I’m not gonna try to talk you out of it. I know you’re gonna do whatever you think you need to.” Seth chewed on the inside of his cheek, resisting the clawing urge to look away again. “I can’t speak for Dean, but I wanted to say, before Sunday... _I_ don’t need you to do this to yourself. You don’t need to do this for me.”

Seth didn’t know what to say. _I’m not. I’m doing it for me_ , he thought, but that wasn’t the whole truth. It was bigger than that. He wasn’t sure he could put it into words. There had been so much that he had been putting aside when he had been working with Triple H. When he’d been injured again, so close to Wrestlemania _again_ ...it was like a dam bursting. He couldn’t hide from himself any longer. How could he explain to Roman that sometimes he was so consumed with self-hatred that he couldn’t eat or sleep or _speak_. It was impossible to describe what Triple H and this match had become to him. Redemption and self-immolation and freedom and exorcism and more.

He needed to be _changed_ . How could he live with a part of his brain that still whispered “ _pathetic_ ” when he looked into Roman’s soft, kind eyes. He wanted that part of himself gone, seared away, beaten out of him.

It wasn’t about Roman or Dean. He couldn’t even _think_ the word “redemption” in same sentence as their names. He could never do enough to make it up to them. And that would always be true, no matter if they forgave him (and hell, Roman already had). They deserved better. But maybe he could be redeemed in a smaller way. He had been in this business long enough to know that redemption was something forged out of blood and pain. This match would be a good first step.

Roman seemed to understand that he wasn’t going to get a response. But he didn’t seem to need one. He’d said his piece, the rest was up to Seth.

The hand on Seth’s shoulder moved up, curling behind his neck, pressing up higher until Roman’s hand was resting just under Seth’s bun, gently palming the back of his skull. Seth just stared and waited, electrified. _Don’t kiss me_ , Seth thought. _Not yet. Not when I’m still like this._

Seth didn’t know if Roman saw the flash of panic in his eyes, or if he hadn’t planned to kiss him all along, but instead, Roman leaned forward and pressed their foreheads together.

They stood like that for a moment. Neither speaking. The cool wind whipping around them, snapping at Seth’s shirt. The rain was starting to pick up.

Finally Roman pulled back. He nodded and turned away. Seth watched him go back inside.

After his match with Triple H things would be different. _He_ would be different. Maybe then- Maybe then he and Roman and Dean could…Seth wasn’t sure how to finish that thought.


End file.
